A Thousand Teeth
by Brick Frog
Summary: If Buffy and Wesley had become friends after season four. A series of vignettes.
1. Chapter 1

Upon waking, Wesley immediately forgot the details of his dream. Only a sense of melancholy lingered. He shook off his sad, little fog and answered the phone, the grit of sleep still in his eyes.

"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce."

"Hey, it's Buffy."

Her voice sounded small and distant, like she was speaking through a long tunnel. Wesley felt around for his glasses and stuck them on his face, as though seeing better would enable him to understand the particulars of the conversation. "Is everything alright?"

"No. Um, Riley and I broke up. He said..." she began sobbing on her end of the phone.

"Now, now, dear." He hated to hear women crying, it circumvented all reason and he wanted to rush over with a cuddle and a cup of tea. "I'm very sorry, Buffy, but I'm not sure why you've reached out to me. We've never been very close."

"That's the nice way of saying it." She sniffed. "Last I checked we sort of barely tolerate each other."

"I respect you, which is more than you can say about me, I'm sure."

"That's not true. You've come into your own since Sunnydale. Cordy and I talk. You've been a stand-up guy. Brave."

He felt a flush of pride which involuntarily puffed out his chest a bit. Funny how the praise from a teen-aged girl could do such a thing, but Buffy wasn't like anyone he'd ever met. Even as a slayer she was a class unto herself.

"How can I help you, Buffy?"

"Well, Riley has been scary quiet since Faith. He hasn't wanted me, which I'm sorry to get graphic, Wes—"

"Don't worry about that."

"Sex is a no go. I confronted him, because I didn't understand why he was mad at me. If anything, I was kind of mad at him for not recognizing it wasn't me."

"How could he?"

"I recognized Giles when he went all Fjarl demon."

"Yes, but you're the slayer. You're imbued with senses most people aren't."

"I didn't think of that." She sighed. "He doesn't want to be with me because of what Faith did. He felt violated."

"He was violated."

"I never thought of that before he said it because he's a guy. I know that's wrong."

"Many people don't. It's problematic for men who've been raped, especially by women." He had an inkling of why she called him. The line of questioning was as welcome as glass in one's food.

"Did she do that to you? When she tortured you?"

"Yes." His face paled with the memory of the humiliation. The levels of violation were myriad, not the least of which that he still thought of her as his slayer to care for.

"Could you help me understand how you're feeling, or what would make it better for you?"

"So you can help Riley?"

"Yes."

"I can't. It's different for everyone. All I can say is if he needs space, you ought to give it to him."

"Okay."

He could almost feel her thinking on the other end of the line. All Wesley wanted was to hang up the phone and get back to sleep, but a sense of duty kept him listening.

"Did you stop wanting to...like...be with...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you with this, it was selfish."

"It's alright."

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Believe it or not, you're the first person who's even asked." He smiled ironically. His two closest friends had shown varying degrees of compassion. For her own safety, Cordy had left town immediately after his assault. When she came back, the most she ever said about the incident hadn't been with words. She'd sat with him on her first day back and bought him lunch. She hadn't asked any questions, or talked about it implicitly, but he knew when she hugged him goodbye, she cared. Cordelia had been surprisingly sensitive. Angel had not, which was to be expected. His employer had wanted to put the whole thing behind them. Wesley hadn't wanted to detract from Angel's sense of victory at getting Faith to turn herself in. More than that he couldn't bring himself to ask for Angel's pity.

"You're kidding."

"I am not."

"I'm sorry, Wes."

"You've said that quite a lot this conversation."

"It's true. This never should have happened to you."

"Thank you."

There was another awkward pause before Buffy said goodbye. Mechanically, he responded in kind. After she terminated the conversation, he stared at the phone for a long while.

"Curious," he mumbled to himself before lying back in bed and going to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Buffy didn't know what had possessed her to go to Wesley's apartment. He'd sounded so sad on the phone and the idea that nobody had asked him what happened with Faith really pissed her off. Angel had been awful when she showed up to help. He hadn't even acknowledged the fact that when it came down to it, Buffy had saved Faith up on that roof. She hadn't let Faith be murdered by the council, even though it put her own life, and position as slayer in jeopardy. Instead he'd accused her of being on a vengeance kick when all she wanted to do was get Faith to do what she ended up doing on her own—turning herself in to the police. So Angel was the hero, Buffy was the monster and Faith was the prodigal who made everybody believe in happy endings. Where did that leave Wes? That's the question that had led her to take a bus to Los Angeles. She stood on his doorstep, her hand poised to knock, feeling kind of like an idiot. Part of her hoped he wouldn't answer, but then he did. Wesley stood inside his apartment, his shirt untucked and open at the throat. She'd never seen him look rumpled and it felt weird and intimate. He looked stunned to see her.

"Buffy?"

"Hey."

"What are you doing here?"

She tilted her head and hitched her hip. "I wondered if you wanted to get some ice cream."

He smiled cautiously. "Sure."

Wesley knew about a gelato shop a few blocks from his house. They walked close together, but not touching. He kept his hands behind his back the whole time. The situation felt so fragile that even the slightest pressure might break it apart.

"Does Angel know you're here?" he asked.

"No. Please don't tell him."

"If it's not for Angel, then why did you choose to visit? Was it just the legendary gelato?"

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I was hoping we could talk."

"About Faith?"

"Yes. What happened to you after? Riley had nightmares."

"I did too. Sometimes I still wake up, thinking she's inside the apartment."

"Has anything helped?"

"A few things. I've been talking to someone. A professional. I've written to Faith and she's responded. When all else fails, I have a finger of Scotch before bed."

Buffy smiled at his joke, knowing it was less a joke and more an accurate description of how he'd been getting by the past few months.

"Riley wouldn't talk about it to anybody. He just shut down."

"That's unfortunate."

"Is there anything that you've been wanting to hear, like, that would fix it?"

"A magic word? No. People don't work like that. Or, I suppose they do, but then disaster usually follows."

"I know. Willow tried to make herself forget Oz with magic and it ended up blinding Giles, turning Xander into a demon magnet. All that happened to me was that I had to make out with Spike, so...yeah I kinda got the short end of the stick."

"Oh, I don't know, he does have those cheekbones," Wesley said with a wry, little smile, "Besides I assumed you had a no heartbeat, no problem policy."

That got a real laugh from her.

They went to the gelateria, the pompous white marble sign and gold lettering forbade the mere suggestion of an ice cream shop. She watched him lick at his weird basil/citrus and ricotta-flavored gelato while she delved into her triple mocha.

"How does savory work with this?" She wrinkled her nose at him.

He smiled around his bite. "Have a taste and see."

Wesley inched closer to her on the stone bench where they sat outside, watching people window shop at the expensive shops. He tilted his cone so she could have a bite, their shoulders bumping as he fed her. It was such a date-like thing she blushed.

"You have a little." He mimed wiping the corner of his mouth.

She licked the cream off her lip feeling ridiculous. "That's was really good, and I think eating it might have improved my taste in art. I don't think those paintings with the dogs playing cards are cute any more."

"I do enjoy an esoteric dessert from time to time."

Wesley and Buffy sat together companionably for at least an hour. They talked about things other than Faith and Riley that were no less treacherous to the status quo of their friendly colleague status. He told her how it was working for Angel, how they risked their lives. He had unbending loyalty toward her former honey, but sometimes he felt as though Angel really didn't like him. She couldn't offer any reassurance on that front. Angel pretty much saved everybody, even if he hated them. Saving people was his gig. Buffy wanted to ask if Angel ever talked about her, but she was pretty sure she knew the answer already and wouldn't like it.

"Aiding Faith hurt me a great deal at the time, even though I've ultimately come to agree with Angel."

"He's single-minded."

"Yes."

Buffy chipped at her super-chocolaty coffee treat, unable to take another bite. She set it aside and moved a little closer to Wesley.

"It hurt me, too. Not that he helped her, but the way he did it. He's not so good at the explaining or the human interaction, yet. Sometimes I feel like we're all the first pancake in the stack. Like in fifty years he's going to be really good at this whole person thing, once he's had some practice."

"He loves you."

"I know. That's the part that sucks. If he didn't and I didn't, maybe I wouldn't feel like making the same mistake again."

Wesley put his arm around her—a gesture she didn't know she needed until he did it. She nestled into his shoulder. They sat there like that for a while in silence. She couldn't help thinking of two baby birds kicked out of the nest, trying to make the best of things. Then he stood up and offered her his hand.

"Shall we walk back?"

"Yeah, I should get home before everybody notices I'm gone."

They held hands on the way back to his apartment. It felt not at all weird, even though it probably should have. Buffy decided not to think about it. They stood in front his building, looking at one another. She felt like she was seeing someone she'd only just met, someone she genuinely liked. The way he searched her face made her stand on tiptoe. It felt like he was going to kiss her. Part of her wished he would, part of her wanted to run away. He squeezed her shoulder and then withdrew, putting a few steps between them.

"It was good seeing you, Buffy."

"It was. Keep in touch, Wes."

He hopped up the stairs and was gone. As she wended her way back to the bus station, she felt a kind of disappointed relief.

If she'd been a different woman, he would have kissed her. After the conversation they'd had and the way she'd taken a bus down to surprise him, he knew she'd been looking to him for something, something she probably didn't understand. Wesley understood, and he knew he could give her solace. She could give it to him in return. After Faith, he hadn't been repelled by the idea of sex. In fact, he'd felt just the opposite, craving contact that could return to him some measure of control. Buffy would have been patient and kind, but she was Angel's love. For all intents and purposes, she would always belong to his friend in a way that made her off limits. Wesley put the thought out of his head and promptly forgot about Buffy in a romantic capacity. They were friends, which was more than they'd ever been before, so he counted the day a victory.


	3. Chapter 3

He'd been asleep again when she caught him by surprise for the second time. Instead of a phone call, it was a pounding on his door. Groggily, Wes dragged himself to his feet, not even bothering to put on a shirt. He swung open the door and there she stood, her eyes shooting fire at him. Those angry eyes looked him up and down. What she saw didn't seem to mitigate her wrath.

He hadn't seen Buffy in a person in quite a while. She was slighter but stronger-looking somehow. All the plumpness in the cheeks that marked her as a teenager were gone. Her face was leaner like her frame; she looked like she'd been honed by the passage of time. Wesley realized that the last time he'd really looked at her had been at her mother's funeral. He and Cordelia had gone down. She'd hugged them both, but she'd been so distraught, he wondered if she even remembered that he'd been there.

They'd corresponded regularly for quite awhile, consulting one another on cases, but more than that. She'd shared herself with him and he'd become close to her. After her mother's death, that all changed. Her messages became sporadic, before stopping entirely.

"Why didn't you call me, Wes? I thought we were friends."

"Buffy? What is this about?"

She pushed past him, a tidy wrecking ball. "Why didn't you talk to me before you kidnapped Angel's son?"

"That was months ago."

"Which means you are super-delinquent about telling. I'm here because Angel and Cordy are missing."

"I know."

"You know?" She threw her hands in the air. "Oh, by the way, thanks for mentioning that in the non-existent e-mails you didn't send me." She folded her arms over her chest, indomitable. He sighed heavily and clasped his hands behind his back.

"You died, Buffy. Do you know how excruciating it was to go to your funeral? How much I resented Dawn on sight because you sacrificed yourself for her? I mourned you. Then you returned by some sort of miracle and I found out from Angel. You didn't feel I was important enough to merit a phone call. I thought you made yourself quite clear."

Her shoulders lost their hard edges. She went from a defiant woman to a defeated young girl in seconds. He'd never seen her defeated before and honestly, he hated it.

"I didn't ask to be brought back."

"And I didn't ask to be born, yet here we are."

She shook her head and sank down onto his settee, her elbows on her knees. "No. I mean...I think I was in heaven, and then I was ripped out. It was hard to adjust. Nothing felt right. I made bad decisions. Hurt other people and myself. So I didn't keep in contact with my friends because I was barely making it day to day. I'm sorry for that."

Wesley sat down beside her, feeling ashamed of himself.

"I shouldn't have let my hurt feelings dictate the situation. I didn't know you were in pain."

"How could you have known, Wes? Nobody else did."

"I should have known you were in heaven. You've always been too good for this world."

She laughed, but she didn't tell him he was being corny. Instead, she rested her head against his. "Tell me what happened with you and Connor."

So he did. He told her about the prophecy, the Loa, Holtz. Once again, she was the first to ask. After he'd disgorged all the misery of his soul, she leveled a compassionate gaze at him.

"You should've called me Wes." She ghosted her fingers across his hair.

"My own pettiness aside, you would've told Angel."

"You're right, but you know I can handle him."

"That's true. In fact, I thought you were the only being who could, which has left me at a loss as to who may have taken him."

She straightened up, becoming all business in a movement. "He didn't exactly come to L.A. to make friends. Isn't there a whole law firm that just exists to mess with him?"

"Essentially. I fear he might be gone."

"No. He's alive. I'd know. I'd feel it if he wasn't. It's kind of a slayer thing."

They discussed Angel's enemies. Buffy had begun her own investigation and landed on the most flagrant candidate, Justine. The redhead had a flashy grudge and had left a trail of vampire dust around where Angel disappeared.

Wesley moved away from Buffy to offer her a drink. To his surprise, she took it. The way she sipped her Scotch was testament enough that she'd changed. The girl he'd known never imbibed anything stronger than iced coffee. She flicked her short hair back and uncrossed her legs. He felt less and less like Angel's loyal soldier the more she relaxed. Buffy took an envelope out of her backpack.

"Here's everything I could scrape together about Angel. I haven't had luck with Cordy. Willow would normally magick up some information, but she's not well. She's in England with Giles, so this was the best I could do."

He took the packet.

"I'll add it to what I've got. We'll find them."

"I wish I could be more help, but things are crazed in Sunnydale. There's the normally stacked slayer schedule, plus taking care of Dawn. I've been working two jobs so we can afford all the stuff she needs for high school."

"Giles hasn't been able to help you?"

"He has, but there are limits. He doesn't want to drop in like my fairy godfather and fix things. It's about me being the grown up now."

"I still haven't figured that out myself."

They shared another smile.

"How do you sleep now, Wes?" She reached over and touched the scar on his neck. "Did your nightmares ever stop?" He covered her hand with his.

"No. They've worsened. When I do sleep it is poorly and alone."

"I'm sorry. I wish I could help." She looked mortified. Something of the young woman he'd known long ago came back to her face. Buffy hurriedly withdrew her hand. "Not the alone part. That came out wrong."

He smiled, genuine and reassuring. "I understand."

"I know you do."

They shared a protracted look and for the second time since he'd known her, he had to stop himself from leaning in to kiss her lips. This time it had nothing to do with Angel and everything to do with Buffy herself. The hint of sex hadn't just embarrassed her—the thought of sleeping next to him seemed to make her afraid. Her pupils were pin pricks.

"I have to go. Keep me updated." She stood up fast, sending her skirt fluttering. He rose as well.

"Naturally."

He walked her to the door. She lingered for a moment and he thought she would change her mind and stay the night. Instead, she hugged him. Buffy wore a tank top and the feel of her skin sliding against his was unbearable. Luckily, it was brief. She stole out without another word.

Buffy had nearly told Wes about Spike assaulting her. The words had been there, ready to go, but they wouldn't line up into coherent sentences. It was stupid. Wesley would have understood better than anyone how she felt because his situation was so close to hers—the guilt for what she'd done with and to Spike, the way she still cared about him, the conviction that what he'd done was wholly wrong, but that he might still be able to be redeemed. Of course, with Wes it had been worse in every respect. He hadn't been able to fight back and he'd been tortured. The last time they'd written, he'd told her he was still talking to Faith. Buffy wanted to know where he found that strength, but she'd been afraid to ask. She was mature enough to know now that not every guy was Xander. Showing up in the middle of the night when a dude was all shirtless and having a drink with him wasn't just a hang out. Even if it meant nothing to Buffy, men tended to take that as a signal. For a moment-a little longer than a moment-she almost wanted him to. Then Spike's face flashed in her mind and she bolted.


	4. Chapter 4

Faith had been the one to get the message that Angel had called. She'd rushed in headlong, which was what she did when it came to Angel, without even telling Buffy. Faith hadn't even known what was happening, just that Angel needed help. By the time she got there, it was already over. Fred was gone, Charlie was in the hospital and Wes was in bad, bad shape.

"You need to get down here, B. Wes is out of control. He stabbed Charlie. He shot a rando lawyer."

Buffy leaned against her desk, her head cradled in her hands.

"Faith, why didn't you tell me you were leaving? We agreed—"

"Have you even heard a fucking word I'm saying?"

"Yes." Buffy pinched the bridge of her nose. "Wes is a danger. Why aren't the police handling it?"

"Because it's Wes. He's sick. We can't give up on him."

"Faith, I don't know if we should handle this."

"Find a way to get here." Faith hung up.

Buffy stood in her office a minute trying to keep her raging headache under control. Faith was a lot to handle at the best of times, but add Angel into the mix and she was not to be reasoned with. If only Buffy hadn't grown to need her so much. Buffy didn't want to see Angel, not after the way he'd hurt her, but she'd do it for Faith.

She called Willow and let her know she'd be going to L.A. Willow would tell Xander and Dawn so that neither of them would freak when Buffy didn't show up to the big morning meeting. After getting off the phone with her best friend, Buffy wondered for the millionth time why she couldn't have picked Willow to be attracted to and Willow to fall for. Why did the only woman she'd ever wanted have to be Faith Lehane? Maybe after all these years of saving the world, impending disaster had become a turn on.

Buffy took the red eye and her plane touched down in Los Angeles at five in the morning. Faith was considerate enough to take Wesley to his apartment so Buffy wouldn't have to go into Wolfram & Hart. Buffy took a cab and met them at Wesley's posh building in the Hill section of Manhattan Beach. The sun was just beginning to break over the water as Buffy pulled up to the imposing granite structure. Faith buzzed her in and Buffy came up the elevator, which opened right into Wesley's apartment.

He looked worse than Faith had described. His bedroom was covered with open texts. He drifted from one book to another, in a daze, jotting notes on thin air. The scent of Scotch wafted off of him in a miserable cloud and the bones of his face had grown more prominent, like he was starving to death. Wesley didn't respond when she said hello, he just continued to revolve around the room with all the sentience of a distant planet. Buffy watched him until she felt Faith leaning against the doorway beside her.

"The doctor gave me a sedative to give him. I was hoping he'd drink the valerian root tea so I wouldn't have to stick him, but he hasn't stopped this research thing."

"I'll inject him."

"You sure? Nurse told me he kicks like a mule."

"No, I've got this. I've got the experience."

Faith flinched, which she did every time Buffy even tacitly mentioned Spike and walked away. When she came back there was a prepared syringe and an alcohol swab in her hand. Buffy took it with a smile. She ventured carefully into Wes' sanctuary. He looked up at her, owlish in his glasses.

"Buffy?"

She moved into the room slowly, her hands forward. "Hey pal. It's been a while."

"Are you here to kill me?"

"God, no, Wes."

"Why not?"

"I'm here to help you."

"I don't understand."

Slowly, she cleared off his bed as they talked, careful not to damage the old books strewn across it. "Because you have friends that aren't willing to let you go yet."

He watched her and she could not figure out what he would do next. His expression was an unsettling blank and she wondered if he was going to gut her like he did Charlie. She continued tidying up. Without the library on his coverlet, the bed she unearthed looked quite modern and sleek. The image he'd had of himself was a rather bleak contrast to the shell before her. Wesley stood in a half crouch with an illuminated manuscript crumbling in his hand. She turned down the gray blanket and smoothed the white sheets.

"I need you to lie down for me, Wesley."

He shuffled over to her without averting his hollow eyes. She didn't look away. Staring down was vital in controlling a violent animal. He got into the bed with his arms sticking out. She rolled up his sleeve.

"You should have been my general, Buffy. There were never any soldiers left behind when you went to war."

"I wish that was true, Wes." She thumped his arm until a vein rose up.

"It is. You gave up the tactical advantage to save Willow. You saved Dawn."

Buffy ignored his strange compliment because it hurt too much in light of everyone she lost closing the Hellmouth.

"You'll feel something cold." She cleaned the area with the alcohol pad. He didn't look away. "Close your eyes. You'll feel a pinch and then you're going to get warm all over."

"I trust you," he said, eyes wide open.

That made her want to cry. Instead she inserted the needle into his vein and pressed down the plunger. She retracted the syringe. His lids fluttered shut after a few seconds. Buffy waited beside him until his breath became regular.

Buffy turned away from the bed and walked into Wesley's well-appointed living room. She'd never been to his new apartment before and was surprised what a difference Wolfram & Hart money made. Apparently he'd been hiding a weakness for sleek, black Panton chairs. His whole flat looked like it was decorated in 1965 by an astronaut who'd just cashed his first NASA paycheck.

"I figure you can keep him in the states for a while, B. There's no way you'll be able to get him on a plane like this. Angel gave me some money to give to you—"

Buffy looked at her girlfriend. "What do you mean, give to me? You're coming with us, right?"

Faith hid her face behind her hair for a second and touched Buffy's waist. "Angel needs me to stay with him. There's a plan, and before you ask, I don't know what it is, but he wouldn't let Wes go without a trade."

"No," Buffy said softly. "You can't do this."

"It's done, B. He's already put word out that he and I are a thing. I'm gonna pretend to be his girlfriend."

"How long is the pretending going to last before my girlfriend is banging my ex?" Buffy put her hands up and walked away. "No wait, don't answer that. This is like my nightmare coming true."

"It's not about you. I owe Wes, big time. This is my fault he's like this."

The raw tone in Faith's voice ended Buffy's plan to dramatically stare out the window at Wesley's spectacular view. Instead she turned back and took Faith's hands.

"No, it's not."

"You know what I did to him."

"I do. I also know what you did to me and Xander and Willow. None of us lost our minds and started shanking close friends."

"It's different."

"You made the choice to be a better person and you are, even after the things you went through. The way your dad hurt you, everything with your first watcher. You can't change what you did to Wes, it will not go away, but you don't have to sacrifice yourself in order to repay some un-payable debt."

"You don't know I won't make it."

"I know Angel. Our oracles predicted something huge is coming out of L.A., but we aren't sure when. They told me fighting won't stop it. The only thing we can hope for is evacuation. Willow's trying to fake seismic readings so that we can get people out of the city in time. You won't survive this and Angel knows that."

"Then I'm trading my life for Wesley's. It's the least I can do."

"What about us, Faith? Doesn't it mean anything to you?"

Faith's big eyes started to shine. "I love you. You know that."

"I love you, too."

"But it's not the same for you. I could be happy being Mrs. Buffy Summers, but you're always going to be looking at guys. Love doesn't fix all that basic science shit."

"Faith—"

"When I leave this place, I'm not going to see you again until it's all over. If what you say is true, that means never, B."

"Don't go. Wes is with us. We don't have to give Angel anything in return."

"Yeah, we do. I might be able to save him."

"Please don't leave me."

Faith grabbed the sides of her face and pulled her into a hard kiss. They both started crying and the tears softened things between them. Faith unzipped Buffy's dress and eased it off. Buffy undressed Faith reverently. They fell on the couch and Buffy took over. Buffy loved to please Faith, but she hardly ever let her lover reciprocate. Coming always filled Buffy with sadness and regret, like she'd just been using Faith for an end rather than making love together. Honestly, Buffy couldn't finish without thinking of Spike anyway, and afterward that always led to tears. She couldn't help picturing his taunting grin smiling through the fire of hell.

It was painfully clear that what Faith said was true—Buffy didn't ache for her the same way. Buffy loved her, but it wasn't enough to change the imperatives of her flesh; she still craved men. Of course her lover was going away. Faith had decided before she even called asking Buffy to collect what was left of Wesley. Buffy wasn't angry at Faith for that choice. Her rage was directed at Angel, as it had been for a long while.

Her anger had grown slowly at first. A pack of slights had tested her affections before the last affront that extinguished them completely. He hadn't been able to go to her funeral or help Dawn after Buffy died. When she'd returned from the grave and the first words out of his mouth were about how they'd never make it work, as if she'd traveled to see him for the specific purpose of getting back together. After Wesley finally saved him from the depths of the Pacific Ocean and he refused to see her in person because he had to concentrate on saving Cordy. She'd come to him for comfort after Spike's death, but instead he subtly gloated.

The coffin nail had finally been Angel's disregard for Giles. Giles had been injured and the only cure involved having the blood of an ensouled vampire. Buffy called Angel repeatedly for a day and a half, but didn't get anywhere until she reached out to Wesley. Wes answered her email within an hour and was there in four with several vials of Angel's blood. She asked why Angel hadn't answered, thinking he was hurt or fighting demons. Wesley had given her nothing but an embarrassed smile and a mumbled apology, saying Angel was very busy these days with running Wolfram and Hart.

Together they were able to save Giles' life, but they were too late to do so without damage. Giles went from jogging every morning and keeping up with her in training to needing a cane to walk and wheezing when he went up stairs. Much of his powerful intellect had diminished as well. He was still Giles, but he couldn't recall far flung spells or obscure texts. For his own safety, she'd insisted he retire to his farm in Bath. Shortly after he left, he met a wonderful woman with a young son. They planned to marry in the fall. At least one good thing had come of it; Giles had found some happiness. However, when she thought of Angel now, all she felt was an intense bitterness. There was nothing remaining between them but bad feelings, and now the tally had risen again. He was poised to take someone else from her.

Buffy directed all that suppressed feeling into satisfying Faith. She lifted Faith's body and moved her like a doll, something not even Spike would let her do. Boys were funny about being the one up against the wall. Buffy made her come with her fingers before carrying her to the couch. She crawled between Faith's legs, and devoured her. She'd never thought she could get over her prudishness about performing oral sex on a woman until the first time Faith had asked for it in a shaky, fearful whisper. So vulnerable and open, Buffy couldn't refuse her. She prided herself on getting better and better each time. It turned her on to think of a guy watching them from the corner of the room. The more she concentrated on the fantasy, the more the guy started to look like Spike, forcing Buffy to think of something else.

When Faith finally begged for mercy, telling her three orgasms was enough, they lay together on the angular gray couch. Faith sprawled on her chest, her long, dark hair spread out, her face framed by Buffy's breasts. Buffy loved playing with Faith's hair best of all the things they did together. She loved the way Faith looked when she was drunk on pleasure, all heavy lidded and practically purring.

"You know you're free now. I don't have a claim on either you or Angel anymore." Buffy smoothed Faith's tangled locks away from her face. The warm afterglow receded and Faith frowned.

"I won't fuck him, B. You don't have to worry about that."

"I'm not. Worried, I mean. Even if you did, I'd be more mad at him."

"This is what my people call a slippery slope, and I'm not going down it, no pun intended. Let's just go to sleep."

"Should we sleep? I mean, what about Wes?"

"That sedative should knock him out for at least twelve hours. We'll have time for a quick nap and round two." Faith winked at her and Buffy felt her cheeks turn red.

"M'kay."

"Nice to see I can still make you blush." Faith pulled a furry throw off of the back of the couch and covered them. Soon the jet lag and the stress caught up with Buffy. She passed out.

When she woke up, the sun had gone down and she was alone on the couch. Buffy sat up, the fur blanket pooling around her hips.

"Faith?"

"She's gone."

Buffy screamed when she heard the male voice behind her. She clutched at the blanket to cover her breasts. It took her a second to register that she knew who was speaking. She twisted around to see Wesley standing in the door frame. He looked much better, more himself. His clothes were fresh and pressed and his hair was wet from the shower.

"I'm sorry to startle you, Buffy. I've made some tea." Wesley sounded eerily calm, the quiet that comes after the bomb stops whistling, just before it explodes.

"Um, what time is it?" She ran a hand through her snarled hair and wished she could melt into the couch cushions.

"Nine-fifty in the evening. I woke a few hours ago. Faith gave me a letter to give to you before she left."

She felt a pit in her stomach. "I wasted my last day with her."

He pursed his lips. "Buffy...would you like something to eat? I could make beans on toast."

"I probably should. Although...obligatory comment about you English people with your inappropriate breakfast food."

"Perhaps a strongly worded letter to the queen would help?"

"I'll get right on that as soon as I'm finished getting dressed."

They shared a smile and she was happy to see something of the old Wes. He left her alone so she could recover her clothing in peace. She went into his bathroom and took a shower in his opulent bathtub. She wondered if all this wealth made it easier to sleep. Probably, for a while, but now it must be a sort of mockery. There was body wash in his shower that had a sunflower on the label and smelled like fresh honeysuckle. She wondered if it belonged to Fred. Perhaps there was another woman she knew nothing about. Either way, she decided not to chance washing with it and setting off sad memories. She used Wesley's Burberry soap. When she finished in the shower, she found his matching lotion and slathered it on her skin, anything to get away from Faith's smell. The amber of her perfume and the scent of her sex seemed to permeate Buffy's skin. It made her want to cry, or smash the wall, she didn't know which.

Wesley sat alone at his long dining room table with the centerpiece of fresh black tulips flanked by white candles in silver holders. The candles had never been lit and she wondered if he'd been saving them for a special occasion. He'd made up a plate of beans and toast for her. She sat beside him, not sure where to look.

"What's to happen now?" He asked before taking a discreet sip of tea.

"We have a safe house nearby. I'll take you there for evaluation."

"Evaluation? By whom may I ask?"

"A psychiatrist." She laid the fabric napkin on her lap.

He put his cup and saucer down with a soft clink. "I'm not mad, Buffy."

"Okay, you're sane and you went on a stabby little shooting spree for fun?"

"Every one of them hurt Fred."

"So slightly discerning vengeance is okay?"

"Didn't you nearly kill Faith for the same reason?"

Her glibness didn't seem appropriate any more. She cleared her throat.

"I did, and I regret it every day. At the time I believed with everything in me it was right. But we both know it wasn't. Sometimes I look over at her and I can't believe we're the same people."

"I doubt Knox and I would have made a love connection."

"He was still a person, even if he was a particularly horrible version of a person, and he wasn't the only one you hurt."

His long, lean body seemed to compress like a fist.

"Charlie."

"Yeah, Charlie. He's going to live, by the way."

"That's good."

"Let's finish breakfast. The sooner we get out of here, the better I'll feel. Do you need help packing?"

"I don't believe I ever agreed to go with you."

"Okay. You don't have a job at Wolfram & Hart anymore so you won't be able to afford Scrooge McDuck's winter palace anymore. Do you think I'm going to let you go full Punisher and roam the streets?"

"What do you mean? Angel doesn't want me back?"

"You stabbed Charlie in the gut. That's a hostile workplace suit if I ever saw one. The H.R. Department probably has rules against that, although it is an evil law firm. Maybe they would want to promote you."

"What about Illyria?"

"She's been contained."

"How?"

"I was kinda logy from hopping continents when this was explained to me, so I might not have all the details right. Didn't she come from a tree in England originally?"

"Yes."

"A guy named...Dragon?"

"Drogan."

"He took Illyria back. She's entombed there."

"And Fred?"

"She's gone." Buffy didn't tell him that Fred's body had disintegrated when the god king abandoned it. She thought that detail would be too cruel. As it stood, he looked devastated.

"There's nothing left then?"

"You're still here. That's something."

"And you are, too." He looked at her with an expression she couldn't place. He sighed. "I'll get my things together."


	5. Chapter 5

Buffy wanted to get him out of L.A. before the trouble started. They had a slayer-friendly colleague in Los Olivos. Madeline Coyne had been a watcher before certain disagreements with the council pushed her into early retirement. Giles considered her a mentor. She owned a pretty three-story Victorian overlooking a vineyard. From the photographs in the email Madeline sent, the house wasn't a bad place to go on a honeymoon, Buffy thought. That was kind of a laugh.

Wesley was silent for the first half of the drive up. He was silent most of the time, but concentrated in a car it was even more intense. Every time she turned on the radio he'd punch through the channels before switching it off. Normally she only accepted that kind of behavior from Dawn, but he was going through a rough time. Plus Faith would be pissed if Buffy had to punch him into submission.

She tried to break the ice a few times, but he'd let the conversation languish when she lobbed him a topic.

"Xander told me the stop signs with the white boarders were optional. I was so nervous I didn't even realize he was messing with me until we almost got killed getting on the highway. Luckily in the area of Scotland where we are there isn't much traffic. Just herds and herds of sheep."

"I found getting my license to be rather easy."

"Oh."

Then he stared out the window until they stopped at a gas station. She pulled up to the pump, rather proud that she knew exactly what to do, then immediately became embarrassed when she glanced over at him.

"Before I prepay, do you want anything to eat? Drink? It's on me."

He looked at her for the first time in several dozen miles. She noticed his eyes were red and swollen and she wanted to hug him, but the rest of his body language was too forbidding to try.

"How do you and your slayers make a living, Buffy?"

"The council had a lot of assets. After the hellmouth we sought out some of the former members. Your dad was one of them."

"Father? I don't suppose he was very helpful."

"No, but he was outvoted. There were more slayers than watchers for once. We set up a trust to pay and train girls. With the investments we made money isn't a worry, which is kind of amazing. There are little dojos around the world. The other slayers aren't under direct management, but we do have better resource-sharing than ever before. That was always the problem when I was the lonely only. Now any girl can use a pool of resources. No more battling the big bad all alone," Buffy said, proudly. "They get real training and they don't have to face any demons until they turn eighteen. My team gets sent out for the big stuff, the world-ending stuff. Me and Faith."

"Is that why you fell in love with her?"

Buffy hadn't really thought of that before."I don't know. I guess she reminded me of Spike. I could always depend on her no matter what, just like him." She gripped the door handle, rattled by his line of questioning, but unwilling to let it show. "So, do you want any road food? I hear they've got donuts stuffed into cupcakes."

He seemed puzzled for a moment before making up his mind.

"I'll go in with you."

They got out of the car. Buffy started when he put his hand on her back as they entered the little shop. He looked down, apologetic. She prepaid for her gas and got a cup of black coffee. Wesley stared at the wall of candy bars for what seemed like forever before he got his own coffee. They went outside. The weather had cooled, and the blue sky had paled to a gray-white.

"It looks like rain," Wesley said, folding his arms over his chest. "Shall I pump the gas for you?"

"I've handled worse."

"Please allow me a moment of chivalry. Unless you're still worried I'll bolt."

"You do have that renegade look going on. I might trust you more if you shaved every once in awhile."

"Noted."

Wesley filled the tank, and they were on their way. He was still very quiet, but the tension had been eased. They arrived at Madeline's house a half hour later. The grounds looked even more quaint in person than they had in pictures. All the spring flowers were blooming, the cherry trees in the front still blossoming pink and white. Buffy got out of the car and Wesley followed. Madeline stood on the porch, her silver hair pinned into a neat bun, a grim look upon her pretty face.

"Mads?"

"Something's happened," Madeline said as she moved forward and embraced Buffy.

"What is it?" Buffy glanced from Madeline to Wesley who'd come up to stand beside them on the steps.

"Angel was dusted this morning. Faith was with him. She was killed trying to protect him."

Buffy felt Wesley's hand gripping her shoulder. She realized distantly that she'd begun to fall over. She pulled in two deep breaths and steadied herself.

"What about the evacuation?"

"There's no need. Whatever was going to happen was connected to Angel. It's been averted."

Buffy stared straight ahead. "Why did he, did the evacuation attempt tip them off? Did we get them killed?"

"I don't know. No one does. Please don't think like that."

"I killed them."

"Buffy, don't," Wesley said, tightening his hold on her. "There's no reason to make it worse or diminish Faith's sacrifice."

The last part got her. She didn't want to take anything more away from Faith. Madeline smiled kindly.

"Willow said she'd be here in a week. That would be enough time to make arrangements for Mr. Pryce here in the U.S. and you can return to Scotland."

"I'm not leaving her."

Buffy tilted her head to look up at him. His jaw was set and he looked painfully lucid.

"What?" Buffy asked.

"Keep me in a rubber room in your basement for all I care, but I'm not leaving you. I can be of help."

Buffy closed her eyes, let her thoughts collect for a moment. Angel was dead. Faith was dead. She wasn't sad or angry. She felt nothing but tired. "Sure. You can stay with me as long as you want."


	6. Chapter 6

Buffy didn't really cry any more. Christmas commercials and kids singing and old pictures used to make her cry. She used to be a big ball of squishy tears. Now she was just hard and dry, the pit of the fruit with the flesh eaten away.

She didn't know what to do with the knowledge that Faith and Angel were gone. The fact of it stuck in her throat. Everything felt far away, drained of its color. Like she was an observer of her own life. The only thing to do was try to control the damage. Make sure the others were safe. Buffy took phone calls from Willow, Giles and her Lieutenant Amerie Wood, Robin's cousin who also happened to be a slayer.

Wesley stood on the periphery while she talked. Several times she forgot he was there until he set a cup of tea in front of her.

At around six, Madeline made a nice supper for them. Buffy ate out of politeness rather than real hunger. She noticed Wesley mostly shoved his food around on his plate.

"There's a lovely path that winds itself around the vineyards and past a little creek. Perhaps the two of you would like to go for a walk?" Madeline suggested as she cleared away the plates.

Buffy glanced at Wesley and he gave her a slight smile and a nod. "Thanks. That sounds nice."

The sun was just beginning to set as they made their way outside, lending everything a last wash of gold before the darkness returned. Wesley kept his hands jammed in his pockets. It reminded her of Giles, who always kept his hands in his pockets to hide an old sword injury to his fingers. The comparison made her draw closer. They trudged on together for a while before she ventured to speak.

"What was Fred like?"

He drew in a sharp breath, surprised. "Brave. She was the bravest person I've ever known. Curious, to the point where sense didn't always intrude. Intelligent. So much smarter than me. Than anyone."

"I tried to read her paper once. I only got halfway through before Willow had to explain it to me."

"May I ask why you read it?"

"We fund scientific research that can help with slaying."

He smiled. "I always thought the council should have gone that route. So much bureaucracy for what? In truth we only existed as a historical body. The whole purpose for our existence was often treated as ancillary. Why on earth do you think a twat like me was sent to watch over two active slayers?"

"Wes!"

"It's true. I'd never thrown a punch. How was I supposed to keep you and Faith safe?"

At the mention of Faith's name, all the air left Buffy's chest. Wesley put his hand on the small of her back.

"I'm sorry"

"Don't be. I don't want to pretend she never existed."

Night had fallen. They kept trudging along in the dark; Wesley stepped carefully. Without slayer senses and her vast amount of practice, he was at a disadvantage. He tripped over a root and she caught his arm. When he'd regained his footing, he took her hand.

"I can't believe Angel's really gone. I've lost him so many times, it doesn't seem like it could be real."

"Do you still love him?"

"I don't know. It almost feels like he had to take Faith just to find one more way to hurt me. Which sounds completely self-absorbed and terrible."

"Grief doesn't need to be generous."

They went back to the house hand and hand until they got closer to the street lights. Madeline was watching television and doing needlepoint. Wesley joined Madeline on her camel back couch, but Buffy said goodnight and went up to her room. Sleep wouldn't come. She thrashed around in bed for an hour before going downstairs. There she found Wesley sitting alone, listlessly flipping through channels. He looked at her and gave her a half smile.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"I was hoping Madeline could give me something."

"There's some Scotch in the cupboard." He rattled his glass at her, the ice cubes clinking. She poured herself a drink and plopped down next to him on the couch.

"What are we watching?"

"The blur of desperate capitalism. Or we could watch 'The View.'"

"Let's go for that blur thing."

After a few sips of alcohol, her sleepiness began to take hold. She started to slide down the velvet cushions. Wesley noticed she'd gone all loosey-goosey. He put his arm round her, gathering her up. She finished her drink, which opened the door to babbling.

"You have to stay with me, Wes. You're my Watcher. You need to keep watch."

"And what a Watcher I was."

"That sounds like a Dr. Seuss book."

"Perfect, I'm self-pitying and utilizing alliteration."

She patted his knee. "It'll be better this time. I'll take care of you."

"Shouldn't I be the one taking care of you?"

"We take care of each other. That's how it works."

Buffy fell asleep on his shoulder. When she woke up in the morning with a vague headache, they were curled up together on the couch, Wes snoring quietly. Gingerly she got up and found a blanket on one of the overstuffed wingback chairs. She covered him up to the chin before sneaking out of the room.

The next afternoon, Wesley and Buffy went for another walk. They stopped near the small pond and watched the ducks sailing across. Out in the fresh air, it seemed easier for them to speak honestly.

"I don't think Fred loved me."

"How could you think that?"

"We'd only been together a day. She cared for me, surely, but I doubt her feelings matched mine."

"There's no way of knowing, why torture yourself?"

"It's not a torment. I've been trying to think of things rationally. We wouldn't have lasted. There's no way a single person could have lived up to the image of her I had in my head. I've never even lived with a woman. I wouldn't know how to start being in a situation where there's bills to pay and chores to share."

"It's not that hard. Don't leave post-its on milk. Be nice. Simple really. Although I'm used to sharing a house with dozens of people-men, women, demons."

"My last girlfriend never spent the night with me."

"That was me, until Spike, and by then we weren't together anymore. I just kept him chained up in my basement."

"Sounds ideal," he laughed.

"The last few weeks I would sleep beside him, totally platonic, which was weird for us. I never told him I loved him, until the last second. He didn't believe me."

"Did you love him?"

"Yeah, except it took him dying for me to realize it." She scuffed the ground with her shoe, all at once feeling heavy and tired. Buffy began walking again. Wesley followed her. "Faith was easy to live with. She was grateful for everything."

"I'm 37-years-old and I've never had an adult relationship. I don't know that I can. I think if I could have with anyone, it would have been Fred."

Buffy wanted to tell him he didn't know for sure-no one could, but she didn't think reassuring him was, well, reassuring him. She took a page from the book of Willow and didn't try to give him an easy answer.

"Why haven't you? Been in a grown up relationship, do you think?"

"My schooling was part of it. All boys. It took me years just to speak with a woman." He looked at the ground, his shoulders hunched."And something else, too. I suppose part of me has assumed I possessed an aspect of unlovability."

"You're lovable."

"Which part is most appealing? The way I express myself through unpredictable violence or my infallibly bad judgement?"

"It's fairly predictable violence and your judgement is only as bad as everyone else's. Why do you think you're so terrible?"

"My father. He wanted to leave my mother. Having me was her last ditch attempt to keep him in a suffocating marriage. He cheated on her, but stayed. Leaving us would have been indecorous but flagrantly stepping out with a string of women half his age was just fine...I suppose it was the time. When I was about eight, one of his discarded mistresses sought me out. She took me from boarding school pretending to be a new nanny. That wasn't uncommon, I'd had a procession of nannies since birth. I remember she wore a long, flowered dress and a wide-brimmed hat. Very stylish at the time. She got me an ice cream. We went to King's Cross Station where she called my father and told him if he didn't agree to meet her, she'd push me onto the tracks. He told her to fuck off. The mistress was called Gemma. Gemma burst into tears. I'll never forget it. She had these great, inky streaks going down her cheeks from her mascara. She bought me a puzzle book and walked me back home. The cook let me in. I didn't see either of my parents until the next day. Neither of them spoke of it, not to me at least. I'm not even sure my mother knew. Perhaps he didn't believe she'd do it, but mostly it felt like he didn't really care."

"I'm sorry, Wes." She put her arms around him. He sank into the hug. They held one another for a long time, until Wesley pulled away. Together they walked back toward the house. Buffy ruminated on what he'd told her in silence until they were about to go up the steps to the front porch. She caught his hand.

"Maybe it's an Eeyore thing."

He cocked his head at her. "I don't follow."

"Well, Eeyore assumed the worst, so nothing ever got better. He just accepted his little broken house and never tried to fix it. He ate thistles even though they scratched his throat. Maybe you love girls you can't have because you don't expect anything to come from it. And maybe you're loyal to Angel because he can never appreciate it."

"Eeyore?"

"Eeyore."

"I'll give it some thought."

"Good. And you're loveable, Wes. We've been friends for years and I love you."

"You do? Well your taste is rather suspect, isn't it." He grinned at her, letting her in on the joke.

They'd been going for walks every day that week. It had become expected, and nothing changed that final evening. Wesley waited for her by the door. She tugged on her sweater and they were off on the darkened path. He seemed normal until they got a distance from the house. She reached for his hand, but he kept it hidden in his jacket pocket instead.

"I think it would be easy to have you, wouldn't it, Buffy?" He said, his voice mocking her.

"What?" She was stunned by the question. For the first time she felt as though she couldn't trust him. It reminded her of the way Angel had spoken to her after he'd become Angelus.

"Faith and Spike told you they loved you. It didn't matter that you didn't reciprocate. That was enough to get you in bed."

"Why are you saying this to me?"

"Because it's clear you never felt a thing for either of them. They were both a means to an end, a way to get off. I don't want to be another broken person you use to fulfill your needs."

"That's not true." She started walking faster, trying to outpace him.

"Isn't it?" He caught up to her and grabbed her arm. "It obviously means nothing to you that they're gone, that they both sacrificed everything for you. Heroes, cut down, because you didn't care enough to save them."

Buffy shoved him hard, but he didn't let go. "Tell me you weren't ready to replace Faith with me, because I was convenient and vulnerable."

The word convenient tripped something off in her mind, something she'd said to Spike during one of their cruel arguments. The look on Spike's face, the small scoff. She burst into tears, which she hadn't done in a very long time. As soon as she began to sob, Wesley put his arms around her. She didn't have the strength or the will to stop him.

"I loved them."

"I know, Buffy. I know." His voice was gentle and sweet again.

She wrung herself out from weeping, until she was exhausted. He practically held her up as they stood together near the pond. As she stilled, she heard the quiet lapping of the water and the crickets as if for the first time. She tilted her head to look at him in the moonlight. His face was obscured in the shadows, his jaw a silver line.

"I'm sorry I had to do that, but you seemed shut off. I thought you'd feel better letting it out."

"I don't, but at least I feel something. Do they teach emotional manipulation at the Watcher's Academy?"

"Actually, yes. It's part of caring for the well-being of one's slayer."

"And sometimes leading her to her death."

"That's part of it, too." He ran his fingers through her hair, smoothing it back. "I'm sorry."

She wondered if he was apologizing for his ruse, or for the expectations of the Watcher's Council. All she wanted was to return to the hotel and sleep by herself. She pulled away and began walking back. He followed.


	7. Chapter 7

Wesley didn't know what he would have done without the structure of habit. The routine he'd set up with Buffy was the only thing keeping him sane these past eight months.

At five there was breakfast; porridge and coffee. Five-thirty his morning run with Buffy, so early frost still gilded the grass and the sky was a deep, velvet indigo of fading stars. It didn't matter that their breath hung white and misty before their faces or that at times snow swirled around them. They never missed the morning run.

Xander used to join them at first, but he'd stopped after a week. Later Buffy told Wesley that Xander felt like he was intruding, no matter how much she tried to argue the contrary. Wesley never tried to dissuade Xander of his line of thinking.

At seven they were open for business, dispatching teams to deal with threats local and international, or simply giving advice to the network of slayers around the world. Lunch was spent with Dawn, always. Wesley had actually warmed to the girl. She was witty and sweet. Willow would often join them. They would take turns cooking. When Buffy's turn came they'd have sandwiches or take out. No one ever talked about this because it was Buffy.

After lunch the team would field more disasters from around the world, unless it was Tuesday, then they'd have a finance meeting. He would separate to do his own work; research, spellcraft, specific problem-solving for colleagues in trouble. They would all meet up again for dinner and then at seven, he and Buffy would train. Like the morning runs, this was an intimate affair, just the two of them. This was always the best moment of his day, taking punches from her. It was rather sick, if he thought about it, so he tried not to.

She had already begun by the time he'd gotten there that day. Her skin was slicked with sweat, her arms gleamed like they'd been polished as she slammed her tiny fists against the punching bag.

"You could have waited." He took his shirt off and hung it on a peg by the door. He noticed her jacket was strewn on the floor, so he picked that up and hung it beside his.

"No, I really couldn't." She gave the bag a devastating right hook.

He walked over and grabbed a hold of the punching bag. "What happened?"

"Angel is alive again."

"How?"

"I don't know. Magic or something. He appeared in the burnt out ruins of Wolfram and Hart's L.A. branch all Terminator-like about a month ago."

"A month ago? Why didn't he contact us immediately?"

"It was all kind of vague." She landed another punch, setting him back a few steps. "He wasn't feral or hurt. He just didn't know how to approach us, I guess."

"I would've thought you'd be happy he was alive again."

"That's the thing. He doesn't know if he's been brought back for evil. He told me I might need to kill him again." She slammed her fists repeatedly against the bag, until he was bouncing with each hit. "I used to love him so much. So much. And the first thing I thought when I heard his voice was 'How is he going to hurt us now? Which of the people I love will have to pay this time?' Then he said he wants to take you away from me." Buffy covered her face with her hands, going from a fierce warrior to a young woman in one gesture. "I'm sorry, that's so selfish to bring it back to me."

Wesley let go of the bag and moved around it to embrace her. She held him tightly, with a power that belied her size. His body got flushed because they were so close and as the blood rushed away from his brain. He started having trouble processing what she said.

"Is Faith back then, too?"

"No." She sniffled against his shoulder. He hadn't seen her cry in months. "Neither is Fred. It was him, alone, for no reason he or anyone else can understand. And he's going to take you away. I don't want to lose you, Wes. I thought I was used to it by now-"

"You won't. I am yours now. Your Watcher. I was the moment you came to collect me. You've earned my loyalty in a way no one ever has. Buffy, look at me." He slackened his hold on her and she gave him some space. She looked up at him, her eyes bleary, her nose running. She wiped her nose on the towel she'd slung around her neck.

"I'm sorry. I'm a goopy mess."

"I like you, even slightly goopy." He cupped her face and dragged his thumb across her cheek to wipe the tears away. "What do we do now?"

She disentangled from him, and went toward the door. Her absence left him feeling empty, another missed opportunity in a lifetime of them. He thought for a moment she was leaving him there, but instead she took her sweatshirt down and put it on, covering up her gleaming skin.

"This has trap written all over it, but we can't just ignore him. If something evil has brought him back, we have to act."

"Angel's fated to be a major player in the Apocalypse."

"I know. Him coming back might mean the world's gearing up to end, although it's been doing that since it started, so who knows?" She picked up a water bottle and drank deeply. He realized she was expecting an answer, but he wasn't thinking so much as staring at her, wishing he was touching her again. "What is, Wes?"

He got flustered, feeling again like he had as a schoolboy and a pretty girl his age had asked him for directions. He'd gaped at her until she apologized and walked away, assuming he hadn't understood what she said. Wesley shook his head and suppressed his awkwardness, reminding himself that he was a grown man who'd learned a great deal since then. Just as he got his footing back, she walked over to him and put her hand on his waist.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concern on her face.

He lifted her hand away as subtly as he could.

"I'm not sure what to do. We could research the site where he was found, see if there was any occult activity. What about Charlie?"

"He's in New York, working at a law firm in Hell's Kitchen. He doesn't want any part of Angel anymore."

"Why?"

"He got married, and he's fighting the good fight in a way that doesn't involve actual fighting. I can't blame him." She gazed at his face, something sad playing out over her eyes. "I should be the one to see Angel. I'm not risking any of my people."

"I'll go with you."

"But he wants you, specifically."

"All the more reason. If he needs me, we have to find out why."

She put her hand on his waist again, and her gaze dropped to his chest. That was twice in as many minutes. He wondered if she wanted him to touch her back and also wondered if he should kiss her. Making a pass at Buffy would upend the apple cart. He needed her much more than he wanted her; he needed her more than anything in this world. He had to preserve the life they shared. The promise of something romantic between them, though tantalizing, also frightened him. She was everything now that he'd lost Fred.

"Did you mean it?" Buffy asked, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"What?"

"Are you mine?" She didn't look up at him. He concentrated on the tendril of hair that had slipped out of her ponytail, the way it trembled as she spoke, and the soft curve of her cheek.

"Of course. As long as I live," he smiled, "and maybe afterward, depending on how things shake out."

She leaned forward on tiptoe, a delicate gesture, and gave him a soft kiss. He could hardly breathe. Her fingertips skimmed his chest. He succumbed to her sweetness. The kiss did not end, but became more frenzied as he realized he would not be rebuked. She wanted him. He knew from the way she pulled him close, so tight it almost hurt, the jagged whimpers in her throat. She broke from him only to peel off her pants. There was no clothing underneath and she stood a few inches in front of him, naked from the waist down. He was staring stupidly at her, he knew that, but it was happening so fast. She grabbed his shoulders and went for something like an aerial mount-her legs wrapped around his waist. He staggered a moment before getting his balance back, then he propped her up against the stone wall. Wesley inched his sweat pants down to reveal his erection. She looked down and then moved to let him inside of her. He thrust inside. She was so hot, so wet he almost lost it right there, folding onto the ground like a paper fan. But he didn't; he thought of what this could mean if it all went wrong. The acute lonliness that would swallow him up if she went away kept him focused. She was everything. He could show her that. They rocked together at a brisk pace. He let her body guide his. Her hair spilled out from the ponytail as they rocked together and her head tilted forward. She kept her eyes shut tight the whole time, even after they both came and had collapsed together on the hardwood floor. They lay together in a tangle, a collection of sharp knees and elbows. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"Look at me," he whispered.

Slowly her eyes slid open. They were so clear and green, her irises wide. Like the old song went, she looked to him exactly like someone in love.

"Are you okay?"

Buffy ran her hand through his hair. She moved slowly, as though she was bearing a great weight.

"If you are." She studied his face. "Was it too soon?"

He didn't have to ask what she meant. She meant Fred, but didn't want to speak that name aloud, not when they were like this.

"I'll never be over her, just as you'll never be over Spike, so those impediments cease to have meaning. They're simply part of us now."

"Then why this?" She rubbed the wrinkle between his eyes that he hadn't realized was gathered there. "You look so sad."

"I'm in love with you."

"And that gives you grumpy face?"

"If I made the same mistake I always do. The unattainable woman."

"You haven't. I think you attained me about four months ago, and I've been trying to get you to notice since then."

He caught a little laugh in the back of his throat. "You love me?"

"I love you."She rolled her eyes, "And before you start in with the parsing I'm in love with you, too. You make me feel fluttery in all the right places."

He couldn't help a grin from overtaking his whole face. "What should we do?"

"Take a shower together, to start. I'm sticky. Then we go back to my room."

"Yes. But what should we do about-"

Buffy covered his mouth with both hands before he could say the word Angel. "No. Not that name. Not right now. Now is just for us."

Gently, he took her hands down. He smiled as he leaned forward and kissed her.


End file.
